


in a telescope lens (when all you want is friends)

by musicalfrogbricks



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalfrogbricks/pseuds/musicalfrogbricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-split fic. Brendon recognizes Ryan at a Panic! concert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a telescope lens (when all you want is friends)

**Author's Note:**

> My very first bandom fic. Inspired by a post that I saw floating around on tumblr. I would find the original post, but it's kind of hard to find things on tumblr after the fact and in my haste I forgot to bookmark it (plus I never actually thought that this little thing would make it onto my ao3/livejournal). A LOT of thanks to tumblr users: adashofcyanide (for reading my fic for me and for putting me on her very awesome Ryden rec list) and a-dog-called-bambii (for giving me ideas in the early stages and reading my fic). Title comes from the lyrics of See You Soon by Coldplay.

After the split, Brendon hadn’t been the same.  
  
Obviously, things were never going to be the same after they left. Brendon was standing in front of the mirror, reminiscing about past shows, past lives, past people.  
  
Mainly just Ryan. “It was like losing part of me,” he had told the interviewers. It was like losing the sound of his voice - after so many years with Ryan by his side every step of the way, Brendon’s own words seemed amazingly insecure and Ryan’s words now seemed empty without their owner around to make them alive.  
  
Brendon couldn’t help it, really. It wasn’t his fault that the lyrics from previous eras seemed empty without Ryan present. They just were. There was a feeling of Ryan-ness that was present in their previous shows that was gone now, and Brendon wasn’t sure if the crowd felt it, but he certainly did.  
  
Or maybe he was the only one who felt it, because he was the only one who really knew what it was like to fill the gigantic, black-hole-sized gap that Ryan left in the stage now. He couldn’t even explain the feeling to Spencer.  
  
Sometimes, during the shows, Brendon would imagine that Ryan was there, standing on the stage right next to him. He imagined Ryan smiling and Ryan’s long fingers stroking the strings of the guitar. But then he would hear Dallon’s voice instead on the supporting vocals and everything just felt wrong.  
  
Don’t get him wrong - Dallon was an amazing musician and Brendon was extremely grateful that their replacement bassist was f---ing brilliant. Not to mention, Ian was also great and Spencer was, well, Spencer - reliable as always.  
  
Brendon tried really, really hard to forget about it. To enjoy things as they were, to stop comparing it to past times. And most of the time it worked - sometimes he would lose himself in the music, in the moment, feel the thrill of being onstage and hearing the crowd roar, louder than ever.  
  
But all those times really didn’t even start filling the giant gap that Ryan left - in the band, and in his heart.  
  
It was almost showtime. Brendon stood in front of the mirror, getting dressed. It was one of his moping nights - most of time he did a fine job of being happy and totally show-ready but tonight obviously wasn’t one of those nights. The band hadn’t had a show the previous night, so he was probably a bit more thoughtful than usual... yeah, that was it. It was just being thoughtful.  
  
Actually, it wasn’t exactly the case - it was Ryan’s birthday. Well, technically it was Spencer’s birthday today, but the band used to jointly celebrate their birthdays and it was kind of hard to avoid thinking about it.  
  
He remembered. He remembered the times Ryan sat next to him by their dressing room mirror.  
  
 _It was right before their Denver show. Brendon watched as Ryan sat in front of the mirror, the contents of his makeup bag spilled out before him and eyeliner in his hand. He was putting the finishing touches for the show tonight: the flock of birds on his right cheek._  
  
 _Ryan noticed Brendon staring at his long fingers. “You want some?” Ryan asked, gesturing at the bag of makeup._  
  
 _“Maybe just a little bit...” Brendon could only wish to look as awesome as Ryan with his gorgeous makeup and the famed rosevest. He fidgeted with the ruffles on his shirtfront as Ryan stared at his face calculatingly, trying to determine what would look good._  
  
 _“Yeah, a little bit of shadow under your eyes would be nice,” Ryan said finally. He reached out to grab a brush - the really fuzzy one that made Brendon’s nose tickle. Ryan gave him a sideways smile. “Try not to be ticklish.”_  
  
 _Brendon laughed. “It doesn’t quite work that way,” he said, but he sat obediently on the stool as Ryan brushed aways bits of hair from Brendon’s face._  
  
 _On instinct, Brendon wrinkled his nose as the brush swept smooth circles beneath his eye sockets. “Don’t do that,” Ryan said, chiding but playful. “I said, try not to be ticklish.”_  
  
 _“And I said, it doesn’t really work that way.” With an exasperated noise, Ryan touched the bridge of Brendon’s nose, sliding his fingers gracefully down the side of his nose as if that would smooth out the crinkles in Brendon’s “I am being tickled” face. Brendon tried to relax as he felt his friend’s fingers brush over his nose._  
  
 _“Okay, let’s try again,” Ryan said, picking up the brush again. Brendon readied himself, but automatically broke into giggles once the brush made contact with his skin. It really tickled. “Brendon...” Ryan complained, but Brendon really couldn’t discipline his nerves anymore._  
  
 _After ten more minutes of several such attempts with similar results, Ryan gave up, putting the brush down. “Your face has too many nerves or something.” He poked Brendon playfully._  
  
 _“Maybe yours has too few.” Brendon poked him back, grinning._  
  
 _Ryan snorted, feigning annoyance and turning away. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, but Brendon saw through the mirror that the guitarist was smiling._  
  
So now he stood in front of the mirror, tracing lines on his face where Ryan’s hands used to brush. The corners of his face where his bangs used to hang down and stick to his forehead when he was dripping was sweat. Brendon wondered if, for old time’s sake, he should maybe introduce makeup into the stage act again, but decided against it. It would only remind him too strongly of Ryan. Brendon let his hand fall to his side, and decided not to feel broken anymore for that night.  
  
Brendon’s perseverance shattered as he spied a pile of magazines in the corner of the room. The magazine on the top of the pile had caught his eye - was one of those magazines that the band had interviewed for a few years ago. He picked it up and flipped through the pages, pausing to stare at one of the pictures.  
  
It was back when Ryan was still in the band, of course. It was during the years of Pretty. Odd. Back when Ryan still had his adorable (yes, yes it was adorable, although Brendon never said that to Ryan’s face) bowl cut and Brendon had that shaggy mop of hair. He looked into the mirror again and wondered if he looked better with his hair down like that rather than sticking up as it was now.  
  
He attempted to pat down his hair so that it was flatter on his head, and it worked - somewhat - but his haircut prevented him from being entirely successful. Oh, well. No time to worry about it now. He set down the magazine with a deep sigh, staring at Ryan’s picture on one of the pages, just as Spencer walked in.  
  
Caught in the act.  
  
“Sad again, huh?” How convenient for Spencer to walk in while Brendon was moping. “What’s up with your hair?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“So, sad?”  
  
Brendon made an annoyed noise, pushed the magazine off the table, and busied himself by adjusting the necktie around his neck and getting his hair back to the way it was before he had attempted to “fix” it. Spencer eyed him suspiciously.  
  
“You don’t need to hide, you know.” He sat down. “I miss them, too.”  
  
“Yeah, but...” he mumbled something incoherent and Spencer raised his eyebrow. “Happy birthday.”  
  
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to get me anything?”  
  
Brendon thought for a moment, then remembered that Spencer had always wanted to play guitar. “You can play acoustic guitar for one of our songs.”  
  
Spencer seemed satisfied. “Sounds good. I would’ve been fine if you had just promised not to mope onstage, too.”  
  
“Have I ever?” Onstage, it was easy enough to lose himself, let the music rule his head.  
  
Spencer shrugged and exited, but poked his head back into the room to make one last note - “Oh yeah, and I promised the fans that we would play Northern Downpour.”  
  
“You what?!”  
  
“Have you even looked at the setlist?” Brendon had just assumed it was the usual, but apparently not. He shook his head, and Spencer shrugged. “Can’t take it back now.” He grinned. “Plus, it’s my birthday, so you have to do what I say. Perfect song for me to play the guitar on, too.”  
  
“You know the chords?” asked Brendon in bewilderment.  
  
“I’ve been studying.” He poked his head out of the room for the last time and Brendon was left by himself to wonder how long Spencer had been planning this.  
  
Brendon picked up the magazine he had been looking at earlier. Of all of the songs, they just had to choose the one where feelings were absolutely impossible to avoid. On tonight, of all nights.  
  
Well, it was Spencer’s birthday. And he had to do what Spencer said.  
  
He threw the magazine against the wall but it didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, he felt worse. Why was it that after the split he had feelings like a teenage girl?  
  
“Showtime, boys!” he heard Dallon’s voice call from the hallway. Brendon suddenly realized that the crowd had been roaring during the entirety of his moping. His heart rate picked up as he walked into the doorway. After all these years, that feeling never went away.  
  
The crowd screamed as the band jogged onstage. Brendon took his place at the microphone and raised a hand to the crowd. With his other hand, he grabbed the microphone tightly. And then the music started.  
  
The show went on smoothly - all energy and emotion. But then he heard Spencer call out “It’s time for Northern Downpour!” from the back. Sweat dripped down Brendon’s spine and he gripped the microphone.  
  
“You’re getting a treat. We hardly ever play this one,” he told the crowd. “This one’s for you guys, and I promised Spencer...” He smiled as the crowd cheer. “... and I promised Spencer that I would let him play the guitar part for this song, and it’s his birthday, so here it goes.” He heard a few happy birthday shout-outs to Spencer. “This song is our last song for tonight, and it’s called Northern Downpour!” Brendon closed his eyes as he heard the crowd scream. He tried to ignore the comments about Ryan.  
  
Brendon had seen the YouTube comments. Of course, he was grateful for the nice fans - the fans who defended him, saying the split was in good faith, and that Brendon was happier now. The ones who said that the fans who hated Panic! for splitting up were jerks. The defender fans were perfectly nice, but deep inside, Brendon knew - and had known all along - that the other ones were right.  
  
He was missing Ryan. And it showed in this song more than anything else. Both he and the fans knew where Ryan’s voice was supposed to be.  
  
Supposed to be. They were supposed to grow up together.  
  
Life had seemed so promising.  
  
Brendon opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and got lost in the memories.  
  
 _They were halfway through the Honda Civic tour. They were having the time of their lives. Never before had Brendon had so much fun during the stage show. During their AFYCSO tours, they never had a chance to crack a smile. Now their shows lived and breathed life and happiness._  
  
 _It was the greatest feeling in the world, and Brendon wouldn’t give it up for anything._  
  
 _The other members of the band had said that their favorite song to play live was Mad as Rabbits, but Brendon secretly disagreed, although Mad as Rabbits ran a close second._  
  
 _His very favorite song to play was Northern Downpour. On the record, it sounded like a bit of a solemn song but he couldn’t feel happier playing it live with Ryan. “This song is called Northern Downpour!” he called into the mic as Ryan started the basic guitar chords._  
  
 _If all our life is but a dream, fantastic posing greed_  
 _Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea_  
 _For diamonds do appear to be_  
 _Just like broken glass to me_  
  
 _Brendon just knew that this song was going to become a classic Panic song. The way the guitar riffs fit together like musical puzzle pieces with Ryan’s acoustic guitar. The way the piano complemented them both, and the way their voices blended together almost seamlessly._  
  
 _He also couldn’t get enough of Ryan’s part. Brendon didn’t think that he was a better singer than Ryan at all - Ryan’s voice had a soft quality, like a lullaby, that Brendon couldn’t do at all._  
  
 _And the best part by far was the part when Ryan decided to join in with Brendon on Ryan’s favorite line. Ryan walked over to Brendon’s microphone and Brendon caught the sparkle in Ryan’s eye. They made eye contact as they sang the line together._  
  
 _I know the world’s a broken bone_  
 _But melt your headaches, call it home_  
  
Right now, however, forget about sounding good. It took all his effort not to make his voice crack.  
  
This was Ryan’s special line. It didn’t really belong to anyone back then but Ryan made it special, so it was Ryan’s special line.  
  
And luckily for Brendon, tears blend in with sweat.  
  
Voice on the verge of breaking, Brendon pressed his lips to the mic - “Melt your headaches, call it... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice cracking.  
  
“... home.”  
  
Brendon looked up with surprise. (Very conveniently, Ryan had put an instrumental break after that line.) The voice was loud enough - or close enough - to be heard over the roar of the imminent crowd. And it sounded just like Ryan.  
  
Brendon quickly scanned the faces in the front row, searching for that familiar angel’s face and that familiar smile. He couldn’t be here... could he? Ryan had better ways to spend his birthday than at a Panic! concert.  
  
The instrumental break had come to an end when Brendon spotted his face. Yes, it was most definitely him. When Brendon realized this, he widened his eyes and nearly dropped the mic on the ground. He was able to complete the song without completely messing up.  
  
Now the tears in his eyes weren’t from sadness - it was more of an overwhelming cocktail of emotions. Most of which didn’t have names, and Brendon didn’t want to name it. For a few moments, he watched Ryan’s face as the former guitarist mouthed the words to the song in time with the music. He could read too easily the emotions that were etched all over Ryan’s face, and Brendon could tell that it was the exact same mess that he was dealing with himself.  
  
He smiled brightly down at the crowd, who seemed to be oblivious to the fact that Ryan was standing there, right in front of them. Brendon closed his eyes, letting the moment seep in. As the song ended, he shouted his thanks into the microphone and wished Spencer an extremely happy birthday.  
  
Brendon was about to thank Ryan for helping him sing Northern Downpour, but then decided that he would save his old friend the trouble--with a start, he realized that Ryan’s face was no longer in the crowd. As he spoke, he scanned the faces desperately, but could see no sign of Ryan.  
  
Don’t leave me a second time, Brendon silently begged. He smiled at the crowd, but inside he was feeling that empty feeling again. As the crowd cheered, the sick, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach returned, stronger than ever. He began to wonder if he had just been hallucinating.  
  
Ryan wouldn’t possibly go to a Panic! concert for his birthday... and if he did, he would definitely tell Brendon first.  
  
Wouldn’t he?  
  
Brendon shivered as he re-entered the dressing room, even though sweat was dripping down his back. He was afraid to look at his reflection in the mirror. He was afraid of what a mess he was without Ryan at his side. He stared at the magazine on the floor and kicked it half heartedly.  
  
“Good show tonight.” Brendon’s head snapped straight up at the sound of another voice.  
  
“Huh...?” His eyes widened. He was pretty sure that this was no hallucination.  
  
Ryan stood in front of the mirror, looking good as always - leather coat, black jeans, hair curled and slicked back as Brendon noted it was often nowadays. He gave Brendon a wavering, nervous smile. “I missed you.” Although his body was still, Brendon could sense his painful honesty.  
  
Brendon could hardly process the words in his head. All this time, it felt like Ryan was well-off: totally independent. Totally happy.  
  
With hardly any thought, he ran forward and grabbed Ryan in an awkward embrace. “I missed you, too,” he said. It was like their old hugs after a show,. To Brendon, it felt like Ryan had, indeed, been by his side the whole time. Ryan’s lanky arms returned the awkwardness.  
  
He finally let go when he heard Spencer’s voice from the doorway. “Does this make up for making you play Northern Downpour?” Brendon saw that Ian and Dallon were grinning madly behind Spencer, and he had a feeling that they had planned all of this together.  
  
“Of course," Brendon replied.


End file.
